The Navigator
by fearlessly
Summary: This is prompted by the scene in which Mercedes threw the brick into Kurt's Nav in Season 1x03 - Acafellas.


Kurt could not believe it.

His friend … his _best_ friend … threw a rock through the windshield of his second-most-prized possession – only second to his extensive and fabulous wardrobe, of course.

His dad was not going to be happy.

Kurt knew how lucky he had been. His dad was in the auto business so he had expected a set of wheels on his sixteenth birthday but he hadn't expected such a _sweet_ and _new_ set of wheels. When he saw the shiny new Navigator in the driveway (complete with a gigantic red bow across the hood) on the morning of his birthday, he had been speechless – and for Kurt that was quite a feat.

For about five months now he had cruised around in that Navigator – it had given him a little bit of freedom, a freedom that he had desperately needed. It was just he and his dad in the house now. It had been eight years since his mother passed but sometimes Kurt still felt claustrophobic in his own home. Hell, he felt claustrophobic in his own skin, most of the time but that was another issue all together.

The Nav gave him freedom, space, something to call his own - which is why he coddled and babied that sleek black vehicle to the point of almost being unhealthy. He was as meticulous with it as he was with his brand name clothes. He washed it and detailed it weekly and ensured it was always purring and in pristine working order. Bless Burt Hummel for having taught his son more than the basics of auto mechanics.

But now his baby had a large gaping hole in her windshield and as if that wasn't distressing enough for Kurt, he was still weight down with the task of having to tell his father. This terrified him – not so much because of the physical damage, but because he would have to tell him the story of _how_ the Nav ended up with a smashed window - and that would open up a whole new can of worms that Kurt just wasn't ready to talk about.

The problem wasn't that Kurt was gay – no. Kurt had come to terms with his sexuality as much as a sixteen year old boy living in small-town America could. The problem was, his dad didn't know. And Kurt wasn't sure that his dad would ever understand or accept him if he did know. A small part of him was scared that his dad would even stop loving him because of it. Despite his fear, something had been tugging at him for a while now to come out. It was just too much of a burden to keep it a secret. It was a large part of why Kurt felt so claustrophobic all the time.

But up until now Burt Hummel was not an easy person to talk to. If his mom were still alive he would have undoubtedly told her first – and without fear. She would have understood and she would have loved him no matter what. She would have served as a buffer for when they told his dad and even if Burt found it hard to cope with, she would have made it okay. She had always made everything okay. But his mom was gone. And she wasn't coming back. So Kurt was left to deal with this problem alone and he just wasn't ready to tell. Not today.

There was no way he would be able to tell his dad the truth … _Mercedes threw a rock through the windshield because she thought we were a couple but found out that we aren't because I'm pretending to have a crush on Rachel Berry to hide the fact that I actually have a crush on Finn Hudson – a boy, the cutest and most popular boy in school._

Kurt procrastinated as much as he could. If he stayed away any longer he knew his dad would send a search party out to find him; so, as the sun made its way down toward the horizon, he reluctantly got into his Nav and drove home, trying hard to not be distracted by the gaping hole in front of him and the shattered glass littering his leather passenger seat.

XXXXXXX

"Hey kiddo," Burt boomed from the kitchen as Kurt let himself into the house.

"Hey Dad," he said, trying to feign nonchalance.

"How was school?"

"It was fine," Kurt said, grabbing an apple as he slipped passed his dad and toward the basement.

"Hey," Burt stopped him, "where you going in such a hurry?"

"I have a lot of homework, Dad."

Burt Hummel was a smart man. To people who didn't know him well it may have seemed like he wasn't intuitive but he was. When it came to his son, Burt had tried very hard to step up to the plate and be the best father possible to a gay and motherless boy. His boy. His son.

"Come sit down a minute," Burt ushered Kurt to the kitchen table.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes Kurt followed and sat.

"What the matter, kid?"

"Nothing," Kurt's voice shot up as high as his eyebrows did when he saw the determined look in his dad's eyes.

Burt was silent as he poured Kurt some juice and himself some more coffee. He sat down and slid the glass over to Kurt. "We've been doing this for a while now, Kurt. If there's something wrong you have to tell me. It's hard enough without trying to guess."

"Dad," Kurt grasped his juice but didn't drink it. "I'm just not ready."

"Not ready for what?"

"To have this conversation."

"So there _is_ something wrong."

"Yes," Kurt resigned and then took a big gulp of orange juice. "But please don't push me. And promise me you won't be mad."

If there was one thing that raised the hair on the back of a parent's neck it was hearing your child say the words, "promise me you won't be mad." Burt was no different. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he eyed his son. "I can't promise that Kurt but I can promise that I will try hard to understand."

Kurt took a shuttered breath and rushed the words out, "the Nav's windshield is smashed."

"What?" Burt rose abruptly from his chair and went to the picture window in the living room. Sure enough, there sat the Nav in his driveway with a shattered windshield. "What the hell happened? Are you okay?"

"Dad, I'm fine," Kurt was standing now. "It's just … well, a rock went through it but I wasn't in it at the time so I'm okay."

Burt eyed him again.

"It's okay, Dad," Kurt tried to reassure him.

Burt's hazel eyes turned more grey, a sure sign that he was trying to not blow a gasket. "Kurt, a rock that size does not just _go through_ a windshield," he said, using his quote fingers for emphasis. "Who threw it?"

"Mercedes."

Burt's jaw dropped. He had not expected that. "That girl with the voice?"

"Yeah, Dad."

"Isn't she your friend? Your best friend?"

Kurt drew his arms around himself. _Here we go_ , he thought. "Yes, but she said she'd pay for it and she's really sorry."

Burt sat heavily in the armchair by the window and stared out at the gaping hole. "Explain," he demanded.

Kurt sat across from his dad with a sigh. "Well, she … she sort of thought we were dating."

It was a miracle Burt didn't get whiplash from the force in which he turned his head. "And were you? Are you?"

Kurt paused. He had to be careful because he wasn't ready to come out. Not under these circumstances. He needed time to work up to it, to psyche himself up because once the words were out there was no taking them back and Kurt wouldn't be able to handle it if he lost his dad too. "No. She thought we were but we weren't. We aren't."

Burt nodded.

And Kurt felt the need to elaborate … and lie. "I have a crush on Rachel. She's a girl. From Glee Club."

Burt raised a brow because he either had been wrong about his own son all these years or that same son was blatantly lying to him. But Kurt had asked not to be pushed so he wasn't going to push.

"Mercedes found out and got mad. That's why she threw the rock," Kurt added.

Burt grunted something inaudible and scrubbed at his forehead as he collected his thoughts. "Oh," he finally said. "Does this Rachel girl know you have a crush on her?"

"No, Dad. And I don't want her to find out."

"Okay," Burt said.

Kurt released the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

Burt looked at his son – really looked at him. He wanted to tell Kurt that he knew he was hiding something and that he was pretty sure he knew what it was. He couldn't do that to him though, not when Kurt was sitting there looking so vulnerable. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right kiddo?"

Kurt nodded.

"And I mean anything," Burt said as he pressed his large hand to Kurt's shoulder and squeezed.

Kurt hugged his dad tight because he desperately needed a hug and because he wanted to hide his face as he tried to hold back the tears swelling behind his eyes. Kurt was grateful to have him and thankful that he had dodged _the_ bullet for another day.

"I'll call Mercedes' parents tonight about chipping in for a new windshield," Burt said, "then you're going to help me install it this weekend."

"Okay, thank you Dad," he said without letting go.

"Now go do your homework before dinner because after we eat I want to talk to you about the shiny crowns I found under your bed."


End file.
